


Choke Hold

by TheSlightlyMoreDaring



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Bottom Stiles, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Stiles, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlightlyMoreDaring/pseuds/TheSlightlyMoreDaring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up in a stranger's bed after a night out and finds the guy's roommate, Derek, staring at him. The two hit it off and encounter multiple crazy ex's and a fair few near death experiences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Latest Notch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vozana666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vozana666/gifts).



The harsh light broke through Stiles' pleasant sleep and he huffed angrily. Eyes squinted, he wrenched the blankets over his head and tried to go back to sleep.

"Hello?" Came a voice right near his head and Stiles jumped. Flinging the blankets around, he flailed above the covers only to find himself staring into dull green eyes belonging to an extremely not-dull face. Stiles' own eyes grew wide as they crept down the gorgeous man's body. Dark hair, scruffy beard, muscles that could kill a man, and bare feet. He looked back up into the guy's eyes only to find that they were staring down at his body in what appeared to be shock. Glancing down at himself, he cursed and scrabbled for the blankets, covering up his supremely naked body. It was then that he remembered where he was and how he had gotten there.

"Uh...where's the guy?" He asked the male model.

"Danny?"

"Yeah, that's his name."

"He left about an hour ago. I didn't know he'd brought anyone home." Stiles noticed that the man was frowning at him.

"Shit man are you guys...? I didn't know. I promise he didn't tell me. I never would've-"

"Stop." The guy commanded, and what startled Stiles the most was that he _did_ stop. "He's my roommate."

"Oh thank god. So, uh...he left, huh?"

"Yeah. He doesn't usually hang around to see them out. Apparently he feels too awkward about it."

"Right. Sorry, but uh...could you give me some room here? I have no idea where my clothes are and you must've noticed that these blankets are the only thing saving both your eyes and my dignity." Stiles chuckled, trying to keep it light, and the guy cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Sure. Sure. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything on the way out." Mr Hotness, as Stiles had decided to name him, exited the room and closed the door behind him. In an instant, Stiles was up and searching through the messy room in search of his clothes.

* * *

After exiting the foreign bedroom, Stiles followed the delicious smell of good food, because he figured Mr Hotness could show him out. The sight that greeted him was more mouth-watering than the smell. Mr Hotness was reaching up into a cupboard and his shirt had ridden up to reveal his sweatpants riding low on his hips, leaving Stiles with no doubt about the man's views on underwear. He flushed when the man turned around and caught him looking. Cursing himself for hoping that this guy would turn out to be gay, he cleared his throat and seated himself on a bar stool by the bench.

"What's your name?" Mr Hotness asked as he poured something into a bowl.

"I'm Stiles." He blurted back, too busy watching the man's expert fingers at work. The guy turned around, assessing him.

"I'm Derek. You're the latest notch in my roommate's bedpost, Stiles, and I'm making breakfast. So how do you take your eggs?"

Stiles was startled by this sudden form of casual conversation, unsure about whether or not this was a good thing. He considered the likelihood of Tall-Dark-and-Handsome being a serial killer, but Scotty was always telling him to take risks, so he did just that.

"Sunny side up, of course." There was a pause as Derek cracked some eggs and the pan sizzled. Stiles began to feel awkward and out of place. He'd just fucked some guy from a bar and now he's having breakfast with his illegally attractive roommate. Surely there's rules against this. 

"That's a nice tattoo you have, by the way." Derek said offhandedly. Stiles blushed.

"Which one?"

"There's more than one? I only saw one at the time. On your left hip. The wolf."

"Oh, that one. I did that about a year or two ago."

"You tattooed yourself?" Derek asked, turning back around to him.

"I'm a tattoo artist. I've got some across my back and one down my shoulders. Oh, and the one on the back of my leg."

"Did you design all of them?"

"Yep. You got any tattoos?"

"One." Derek said, turning back around. Stiles' eyes slid across every bare inch of skin on the guy's body and swallowed loudly. If the tattoo isn't visible in a t-shirt and sweatpants, Stiles can't help but wonder where it is. 

"So what do you do?" Stiles asked, looking away.

"I'm a bartender." 

"Oh, that's nice. Where at? I've been to most bars in this town. And I'm sure you know what I mean when I say that Beacon Hills is extremely blank on that front."

"Uh...it's a small place on Woodview." Derek glanced back at Stiles as he said this, and Stiles' eyes nearly popped out of his head. Small place on Woodview. the only bar down that way is a gay bar. _A gay bar. Mr Hotness works at a gay bar._

"Oh. That's a nice place. Been there a few times. The, uh...the drinks are good."

Derek'a shoulders visibly relaxed at this. "Thank you." He pulled two plates out from a cupboard above him and Stiles hurriedly averted his eyes. A few moments of comfortable silence passed and Stiles watched in approval as bacon, eggs, toast and fried tomato were piled high on both plates.

"Can I get you a drink?" Derek asked, and Stiles remembered being asked the exact same question the night before.

"Yeah, just water thanks." He paused. "Just wondering, but when does uh...Danny get back?"

"He probably won't be home until tonight. He's gone to his sister's."

Stiles distracted himself from the awkward silence by eating heartily. Stabbing a bit of everything onto his fork, he opened his mouth as wide as possible and let out an involuntary moan that made his cheeks redden. He glanced up at Derek to see him watching Stiles, chewing having abruptly stopped when Stiles let out that _embarrassing as fuck_ bedroomnoisethat should, in all honesty, be illegal. Especially for those whose brain to mouth filter is severely damaged.  

"It's uh...it's good. You're a good cook." Stiles murmured, attempting to redeem himself. 

"It's just bacon and eggs, Stiles." Derek said, voice giving away nothing and yet still managing to make Stiles shudder when he said his name. They both ate the rest of the meal in silence. 

Stiles scraped his chair along the floor as he stood to leave, cringing at the obvious awkwardness. Derek stood too, having finished his breakfast before Stiles. 

"It was good to meet you, Derek. Tell Danny I said goodbye. Actually, don't. Never mind. Just...yeah. Thanks for..." Stiles waved his hands in the direction of the empty plates. Derek didn't say anything, just watched Stiles make a fool of himself.

"God, why is the morning after so awkward? You're not even the one that fucked me!"

Derek's eyebrows rose, very nearly reaching his hairline. Stiles flushed red for the second time that morning.

"How about you forget I said that and just show me the door before I embarrass myself further?" 

* * *

 

Later that day, as Stiles took a shower to wash off the appalling smell of sex and bacon, he absolutely did not think of Derek. Or Derek's hidden tattoo. Or Derek's eyebrows. No sir. 


	2. Putting the 'Tender' in Bartender

Three weeks later, Stiles was still thinking about Derek. About his hair, his eyebrows, his arms, that small strip of skin above the waistline of his pants, and, of course, his hidden tattoo. Every man that Stiles met was instantly compared to Derek, which made trying to get laid very difficult. The clubs and bars were empty of gorgeous Mr-Hotness-look-a-likes, and yet Stiles was too scared to travel down good ol' Woodview to seek out what he wanted. He knows he made a terrible first impression. No potentially gay hottie should ever have to suffer seeing Stiles naked first thing in the morning. Stuck with these issues, Stiles decided to turn to the only person who would be brave enough to listen.

"Scotty I'm in love." Stiles screamed as soon as Scott answered the phone.

"Scotty?" There was no answer. Stiles checked his phone and saw that Scott had hung up.

"Prick." He muttered, dialling again.

"Stiles, you were in love last night. You were in love two weeks ago. You'll be in love in another two days. All different loves, buddy."

"Okay first of all there's nothing wrong with spreading the love. Second, this one's real, Scott, I swear."

"Has he seen you naked?"

"Well-"

"For fucks sake, Stiles!"

"No no this one's different! He only saw me naked cause I woke up in his house!" There was a silence after these words and Stiles could picture the look on Scott's face. He almost laughed. Almost.

"Stiles, start from the beginning."

 

* * *

 

"So you're telling me that you fucked this guy's roommate, he offered you breakfast, and now you're scared of him?"

"I'm not scared of him." Stiles muttered defiantly.

"Yes, you are. I can't believe I'm doing this Stiles, but if you like, I'll come to Derek's bar with you so you won't be alone."

"Oh my god Scotty you're the best! You won't regret this, I swear!"

 

* * *

 

"I regret this." Scott whispered in Stiles' ear when they walked through the door. Stiles' eyes zeroed in on Derek behind the bar, cleaning a tumbler.

“Me too. Let's leave." Stiles said firmly and turned, crashing into Scott.

"Oh no you don't! I came here for you, and you are going to buy me a god damn drink! Is that Derek behind the bar?"

Stiles nodded meekly.

"Right." Scott said authoritatively before grabbing Stiles' wrist and tugging him over to the bar. He forced Stiles into a seat, barely noticing Stiles' ears turning pink when Derek's gaze fell on him.

 

* * *

 

The first thought that came into Derek’s mind was ‘ _shit, this guy again_ ,’ the second; the automatic instinct to fix his hair. Danny had brought over plenty of attractive guys before; he’d always agreed with Danny’s taste. But he’d never felt such an attraction before. Not like this. This would have to have been Danny’s best. His face felt hot, just remembering the sight of him. He’d tried so hard to act casual that morning, making him breakfast, trying not to think of him naked...

And now here he was, mumbling and muttering and turning pink while his friend stood by and watched.

Derek cleared his throat. "What can I get you?"

"Uh...Scotty, what would you like?" Stiles asked, avoiding eye contact with Derek.

"I'll just have a beer, thanks."

"I'll have the same!" exclaimed Stiles. Scott threw him a confused glance.

"What?" Stiles asked as Derek worked on getting the drinks.

"You hate beer." Scott said, and Stiles turned red. Again.

“On the house." Derek murmured as he placed the tall glasses in front of the boys. Scott smiled and said thank you while Stiles stared intently at his drink. An uncomfortable silence grew as Scott sipped his drink and watched the dancers.

"I'm just gonna go and see if I can find somewhere a little more quiet to sit." Scott said, and Stiles looked up at him.

"Want me to join you?" He asked, hopeful.

"No, no. I'm sure I'll be fine." Scott clapped him on the shoulder as he left, leaving Stiles alone with the most beautiful and intimidating bartender to ever exist.

Ten minutes passed of Stiles glaring into his drink and Derek serving customers. Stiles noted that although he was the only one working the bar, he never ventured too far from where Stiles was sitting if he could help it. Stiles looked up at him while his back was turned. Derek was dressed in all black, his t-shirt adjusting to make room for the rippling muscles every time he moved. The man was pure sex, plain and simple. A delectable, edible concoction of muscles, twinkly eyes, and stubble. Stiles’ eyes travelled south, burning holes in the jeans he so desperately wanted to rip off. He thought of all the ways he could take him. Being held up the liquor wall, bent over the bar top, fucking him on the bar stool, riding him on the floor…Stiles hurried to cover himself before somebody (namely, the gorgeous bartender in question) noticed his uh, excitement. His desperate stares were interrupted by the walking piece of sex himself.

“So, uh..” Derek cleared his throat and nodded in Scott’s general direction, “Danny’s replacement?”

“Who? Scott? Nah, the guy’s my best friend. I’m just the gay arm candy.”

 _Funny_ , Derek thought, _I feel significantly less of an urge to burn both of Scott’s hands off_.

“Well you sure do look sweet.” Derek’s mouth formed the words _completely_ without permission. And as he saw the vivid blush creep up Stiles’ ( _long, lickable_ ) neck, he turned away immediately and crossed to the other side of the bar.

Unfortunately for Derek, even several hours later, Stiles didn’t seem to be leaving. The boy was suffering slowly through beers he didn’t like, paying for each and every one of them, just to sit at the bar and watch. Fortunately for Derek, this gave him every opportunity to present himself. His most frequent customers were calling it his clumsiest night ever, but how could he help it if he just happened to drop a receipt and bend over with his back to Stiles, searching for it with his ass high in the air? And okay, so maybe he shook the cocktail mixers at a _slightly_ inappropriate height, and at a _slightly_ inappropriate pace. And yeah, maybe the bottle wasn’t _that_ difficult to open, and he could’ve done without positioning it in front of his crotch and gyrating his hips forward as support to hold it. And sure, one could argue that he didn’t _need_ to stretch his arms out above his head, completely aware that his shirt was short enough to fully display the deep V lines that disappeared beneath his waistband. But he’d be damned if he didn’t at least get a little hard every time he heard Stiles’ obscene gasps and whimpers at each little display. He knew how to work a crowd, and he knew damn well he was hitting all of Stiles’ sweet spots.

“Love to hit your real sweet spot…” he muttered subconsciously, only to have a young blonde girl giggle giddily.

“Play your cards right and you can hit it tonight.” She said with a wink, reaching over the counter to drag her long nails down his chest. Derek couldn’t help it, with all of his inappropriate exhibitionism that night, he gasped through his teeth when the edge of her finger scraped over his hardened nipple. The girl giggled again, just as Derek heard a very small “oh” whispered behind him. He turned, and his wide eyes met with Stiles’, disappointment and realisation etched into every line on his face. The girl gripped his chin and forced his attention back to her.

“I saw you from across the room, big guy. And I know you saw me, too. All those little displays, just for little old me? I’m beyond flattered, I’m…enthralled. You, mister, have successfully…” she leaned forward, lips inches from his, “…seduced me.”

Derek had only moments to plan his defence before the girl kissed him. Weighing up his options, he created a sufficient list in his head.

_Option A. If he let her kiss him, he would have no chance with Stiles._  
_Option B. If he didn’t let her kiss him, he’d have to awkwardly explain to her the display wasn’t for her in the first place._  
_Option C. If he whipped around and kissed Stiles instead, she girl would get offended and leave._  
_Option D. If he ducked behind the counter, he would have to face them both soon enough._

Backed into a corner with no plan of attack, Derek’s jumbled mind did the only thing it could think of doing. At the press of her sticky lips against his, he moaned Stiles’ name.

 _Well that was unexpected_ , he thought.

The girl slapped him.

 _Also unexpected_.

“Oh, fuck…” he heard Stiles groan out behind him.

_Also unexpected. But god, so welcome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. 
> 
> To the people who actually liked this fic and never received any more of it, I'm sorry. 
> 
> To my then-best friend Teagan, to whom this fic was a gift, I'm sorry.
> 
> And to the same person, my now-girlfriend Teagan, who reminded me tonight that I've let her down with this "gift", I'm especially sorry. 
> 
> I hope, two years later, this continuation is enough.


	3. Don't Drag Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Sorry about that. It's been four months since I last updated and promised a few weeks. In my defense, however, life got a little crazy. 
> 
> I moved state to live with my girlfriend. I'm trying to find a job here, and I'm trying to sort out my uni studies. Aaand on top of that I'm a pretty pathetic writer with 0.00% motivation. 
> 
> On the plus side, check out my girlfriend's account; Vozana666. She writes brilliantly, updates frequently (sorry again guys), and essentially invented and mass-produced a pretty incredible crossover ship. No spoilers! Go check it for yourself. 
> 
> Enjoy xx

Derek felt incredibly trapped, being stuck behind the bar with all eyes – _those_ eyes­­ _–_ on him. The sticky, unwelcome girl sauntered off to join her intoxicated friends, leaving Derek alone with his smirking regulars and his wide-eyed…well…Stiles. Clearing his throat, he tried not to notice the blush spreading heavily across Stiles’ pale face, all the while attempting to ignore his own pink cheeks. The silence stretched on, broken only by the thudding music and drunken laughter. Derek glanced around for an escape, any sort of distraction so he could pointedly not confront his snickering customers. He heard Stiles stand up and peeked up at him as he slid his beer across the bar, cash folded up underneath it. Gulping, he opened his mouth to speak just as a large throng of breathless dancers, including Scott, came tumbling out of the crowd.

“Stiles. Dude. My man. You won’t believe where I ended up.” He draped himself around Stiles’ shoulders, eyes heavy with glittering eyeshadow as he fondled the shimmering feather boa tied around his hips.

“…in the care of a drag queen?” Stiles stifled a laugh as he took in the sight of his drunken, fishnet-clad best friend.

“Yoooo how did you know? Her name. Dude get this, right? Her. Name. Her name is Bea Em and she’s the best.”

“Bea Em?”

“Stands for BIIIIIIG MAMA!” Scott stood back and shimmied his chest openly, knocking himself over. Everyone watched as he struggled to haul himself back up unashamedly, tightening his feather boa as if to reclaim his dignity. His eyes fell on Derek’s affronted expression and let the humour fall from his face.

“Can I have your number? Asking for a friend.” Scott deadpanned, frowning.

“Uh-I’m sorry, what?” Derek stammered, thirsty customers long forgotten.

Stiles groaned in embarrassment, tugging on his freshly de-closeted drag queen’s arm. “Scott. We’re leaving.”

Scott whined in protest, complaining about something that sounded like either “but Time Warp dance off” or “I pulled my pants off”. Stiles honestly couldn’t tell, and really couldn’t handle the way the customers at the bar were watching him with poorly veiled humour. Shoes scuffing on the wood, he attempted to tug and push Scott towards the door. However, in some freak show of stubbornness, the man was comedically rooted to the floor, hands positioned sassily on his feathery hips.

“Well…sure. Yeah. Stiles can uh…can have my number.” Derek’s pitchy admission brought Stiles to a halt, staring across at him before glancing at the bar, clearing his throat and blushing harder.

“No need.” He muttered, and Derek’s face fell. He gestured to the folded bank notes under his half-empty glass. “Mine’s in there.”

“Oh...” Derek choked out, his hand itching to pocket it immediately. Stiles ducked his head, murmured a quick goodbye, and dragged Scott away amid catcalls and laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

Spontaneous combustion seemed like a pretty welcoming death to Scott right now, and judging by his pounding head and the bodily fluids that were desperately attempting to flee the warm confines of his stomach, the alcohol level in his body was more than enough to pose a risk should he approach an open flame.

Groaning, he used his limp and weakened arms to push himself away from the cold ceramic toilet bowl and half walked, half crawled his way out of the bathroom. Led by his nose, he found himself on the kitchen floor of their shared apartment, staring up at Stiles’ smiling face.

“Good morning, beautiful!”

Scott groaned in response.

“Fine. Be that way. I’ve made you bacon and eggs, you ungrateful drunk. Breakfast fit for a queen, I hope?” Stiles laughed. Scott chose to ignore this, instead hoisting himself against the cabinets, stuffing his face with the greasy bacon. Hangover cure 101.

“So how much of last night do you remember, my feathered friend?” Stiles plonked himself on the floor across from him, back resting on the cupboards. Scott shrugged, tired eyes on his fried egg as he stabbed it.

“Oh, Scotty. You’re my favourite diva. Really.” Stiles stood, shoving the last of his breakfast in his mouth. With cheeks bulging, he reached across the countertop and unplugged Scott’s phone.

“Luckily for you, I was smart enough to charge your poor abandoned phone overnight. Luckily for me, you didn’t have it on silent. You have a few notifications here, Scotty.”

Scott tugged his mobile from Stiles’ eager hands, noting that Stiles’ smug, mocking tone earnt him a sinking feeling in his newly replenished stomach.

Three missed calls.

Six texts.

 _9:37 pm_  
Hey Fido,  
Where are you, puppy?  
\- Bea Em xoxo

 _10:13pm_  
You left pretty early, sunshine.   
I hope everything went well with your Stiles!  
\- Bea Em xoxo

 _10:47pm_  
Maybe we can do this again tomorrow night?  
\- Bea Em xoxo

 _10:48pm_  
How about lunch? I’ll tone down the glitter if you loosen up on the fishnets.  
\- Bea Em xoxo 

_11:32pm_  
Sleep well, Fido.   
You’re the best baby queen I’ve ever raised.   
Don’t tell Rose.  
\- Bea Em xoxo

 _9:16am_  
Good morning, my shining star!  
Call me back when you get this, okay?  
You know Big Mama will always take care of you.  
\- Bea Em xoxo 

 

“Who the fuck is Bea Em?!”


End file.
